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War has changed. In the not too distant future, on a tired battlefield, War has become routine.

Since the dawn of Humanity, when our ancestors first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything - and nothing. Even in the age of deterrence, where the witching hour to apocalypse now can be measured in seconds by the combined nuclear arsenals of the world's super powers, the drum beats of war soldier on. Hundreds and thousands die by the day in silent flash point conflicts across the globe. Their passing ignored by the unconscionably desensitized mass media bankrupt of any pathos, spurned on by muddy self-important ideology of undeserving half-men, and financed by greed of the highest amorality.

To curb the destructive nature of man before it could sustain itself no longer, a brilliant, and very likely mad witch placed her hopes in a heartfelt prayer. Mayhap, she had seen the truth that there is no lasting hope in violence, only temporary relief from hopelessness.

Born from the iron womb of man's innocent dream to free his soul from gravity, she gave the world: Infinite Stratos.

So did the world change, but like the Mother of All Monsters slain, a new wind of madness began to blow from the shadows that tore free from her swollen birthing stomach. In giving Mankind, Infinite Stratos, her brightest light and fondest wish, Doctor Tabane Shinonono, too, gave Him new machines, new weapons that he might better do harm to his fellows. First, came the Muscle Tracers, utilitarian powered exoskeletons, caricatures so horrific as to be blatant parodies born in the shadow of the almighty IS's, whom hailed from the lofty heights of heaven itself. Clumsy and oafish, the MTs would have never seen the battlefield, relegated to the drudgery of civilian enterprises, had it not been for unforeseen advances in battery technology and electroreactive polymer technology that came out from IS Project.

Thus, like the fairy tale days of yore, men did ride out to war clad in armor alongside giants of steel once more.

Following in the footsteps of its clumsy forbearer, second born, came the Personal Trooper, infantry-scale powered armor, a force multiplier that could elevate a single soldier to the strength of an entire weapons platoon. Modular, resilient, adaptable, and punching well above their weight, they should never be taken lightly, under normal circumstances.

The most fortunate son of them, third born, came the Armored Trooper, a bipedel mechanized weapons platform ranging from three to four meters that shares much in common with its utilitarian progenitor. Cheaply made, easy to maintain, modular, maneuverable, lightweight, cost effective, and best of all, expendable: when upscaled to AT-size, the technologies used to manufacture PTs cost a mere fraction and would bother an ambitious warlord no more than the cost it took to buy a sport utility vehicle for his private collection. And believe it or not, these tin cans with an autocannon are the crème of blitzkrieg warfare, where hundreds, if not thousands could be deployed en masse feasibly, thundering across open battlefields to overrun enemy positions within minutes.

Quantity is a quality of its own, too, see?

But as great and vast these new shadows were, they were still pale imitations of the Infinite Stratos. Misshapen beasts that would only buy the foolish and misguided within their armored hulks a second or two longer against the overwhelming superiority of the IS's divine judgment. 476 "Angels" were given to the world, but not all were blessed as equally. Between the have's and have-not's, there exists a huge disparity in affluence and prosperity, and the downtrodden would not suffer such a travesty.

The Have-Nots rebelled against the world order, waging a doomed world war where many died, and many more suffered. So did the age of deterrence transform into the age of control. All in the name of averting catastrophe from weapons of mass destruction.

If that were all, then we would be so lucky, but from the ashes of The National Dismantlement War, another ugly beast was born, The LYNX, "remodeled" humans who debuted too little, too late to change the inevitable outcome. They were soldiers once, and young, turned into transhuman monsters capable of crossing the divide between man and machine. How can this be? Their secret lies in the S-Type Device, developed originally by Doctor Morgan Bernard, a brilliant bio-neural researcher among other things, to help physically disabled persons regain their independence. Suffice to say, the exact know how behind the S-Type Device implementation procedure is a closely guarded state secret, forbidden knowledge spoken of only in the darkest of corners, out of sight and out of mind.

War has changed. And he who controls the battlefield... Controls history.

With the institution of the Alaska Treaty, which forbade the use of Infinite Stratos for warfare, the world powers found themselves at an impasse. Here, within their hands rested the most revolutionary weapon system known to man, since the inception of weapons of mass destruction, and they could no longer put it to good use? What good is a weapon if it cannot fulfill its purpose? Threats needed to be proved with real and permanent consequences, and not with mock battles staged for the posterity of one's country in the Infinite Stratos League's games.

The much lauded IS World Championship? Bah. Another sham. The people, growing fat and unruly in the blanket of comfort, needed to be reminded of fear, and the tiger men would have their way.

Article 1 of the Alaska Treaty, Section 8, Clause 18: The Necessary and Proper Clause gave the world powers the right to "defend" their national interests against all enemies foreign and domestic. The Infinite Stratos cannot deployed in an "act of war", but for the purposes of defense and peacekeeping? Oh yes, they can and will enforce the peace, often with extreme prejudice.

That is why the armed crisis resolution organization, "Collared", exists: a stable of a hundred odd "anonymously" registered Infinite Stratos from various sources, state run and private, supported by an army's worth of disparate MT, PT, and AT fully mechanized companies, owned by various individuals and start-up initiatives. Collared even has access to unmanned combat vehicles, state-of-the-art air support, and extravehicular assets up in Earth's orbit. No one wants to admit that they are horrifically well-paid contractors the Gestapo of the United Nations, tasked with rehabilitating the Special Administrative Zones drawn up arbitrarily amongst the bloated, carrion infested carcasses of the losers from the National Dismantlement War.

But in creating Collared, the world powers did not foresee a series of unfortunate consequences.

War has changed. It's an endless series of proxy battles fought by mercenaries and machines. You ask of nations, ideologies, or ethnicity? And I reply, "What of it?" ...None of it matters anymore, for verily, War and its consumption of life has become a well-oiled machine, in the name of profit.

Even as the world's first orbital elevator, ATLAS, a joint multi-national project spearheaded the USA, the EU, China, and the Russian Federation, begins to break the envelope of the exosphere, the powers that be recognized the need to tighten their stranglehold over Earth. The reason being, in recent years, there had been a disturbing trend of unregistered Infinite Stratos appearing in combat actions outside the known 476 Angels. How it was possible for them to exist, none of the global power houses would admit to the cause.

It was bad enough that on occasion, Infinite Stratos and registered mechanized units from Collared would go - rogue, but at least, they were quantifiable threats. These "Missing Numbers", on the other hand, were a growing epidemic that could not be simply swept underneath the carpet. It would be pure folly, considering a single IS could and has stopped a war, on a previous occasion for the edification of all concerned, by shooting down two-thousand four-hundred thirty-seven missiles, two-hundred and seven fighter aircraft, disabling or immobilizing five aircraft carrier groups, and - oh - vaporizing eight spy satellites that were tracking its movement.

Traditional static defenses and sprawling military outposts were obsolete, little more than fat, juicy targets for the "do-everything-and-stop-at-nothing" Infinite Stratos. Defense analysts joked the only thing that could stand in their way, conventional speaking, was to throw mountains at them. Let it not be known that the world powers were not without a sense of humor, because they did exactly just that by commissioning:

Arms Forts, megaweapons on a massive scale that were many times larger and much more powerful than any single Infinite Stratos.

Deployed in matters where IS are neither available nor sufficient, the existence of these fantastical mobile battle fortresses, bristling with weapon batteries, heavy armor, experimental arms and technologies, and veteran troops, replaced the reliance of IS in military operations, effectively. Arms Forts, also, reinstalled a sense of equilibrium at long last into the state of checks and balances that maintains the world's order. No longer must the world powers have fear from a rabble of rogues and misfits toppling their kingdoms, as they began their conquests into outer space and beyond.

They had finally done it. The League of Ruling Nations had achieved: Control.

War has changed. When the battlefield is under total control... ...War becomes routine.

In a perfect world without meaning, what are we fighting for? Is there even - an answer?

---

The silvery rapport of a broken blade reverberates through the vast Chthonic cathedral, lit by green sulfurous light, in the forgotten center of the world. There, two armored silhouettes existed, one bent to the knees, clutching its side as if wounded, and the other stood, poised to deliver the final blow through one outstretched hand in an instant.

"...D, dammit, is this the end?" the former cried in vain. "...Kuh! Come on. Come on! Move, Byakushiki. We can't lose here, not like this!"

"Heh ha ha, you always were a sore loser, my friend," the latter chuckled brightly. "...Not that I found it dislikeable. In fact, I found that quality about you to be quite adorable."

"Che, and behind that nice guy routine, I know you enjoyed crowing victory more than anyone else, so don't be trying to get cute with me!"

"Hotly contested battles demand such fanfare, just like now. Pu ku ku ku, can you hear it, Orimura-dono? The voices? The crowd! It is --- glorious. This feeling!"

"You moron, this place is a tomb. There's nothing out there. Stop deluding yourself already-"

"Wrong. Again. So. Very. WRONG. The deluded one is you, Orimura Ichika. Even now, you would blaspheme by denying the existence of God? He is here, my friend. Right here. Standing in this cathedral, watching us just beyond those golden gates that will open the way to the Realm of the Gods!"

"Wiseman's no god! He's just using you."

"Ah, but a pawn is you, Orimura Ichika-kun, and a wonderful knight you have been, fulfilling your role with every ounce of strength in your body. Heh ha ha ha, I could not have asked for a better foil, and more loyal a comrade-in-arms. Ichika. I was proud to call you my friend."

"Then, stop this! Don't go-"

"I must go. Apotheosis. My ascension is at hand! Many hardships have I suffered and overcome, but defeating you --- was my magnum opus! There can be no lingering doubt, no hint of treacherous dissent left. I am worthy. The most magnanimous. The most courageous. The most wise. The fabled overman destined to deliver us from darkness, and lead our people into a new glorious age!"

"Superman, my ass, you idiot. Super idiot is more like it! Those monsters from the ABYSS-"

"Must I educate you, again? Fool. War is the creator of history!"

"We don't need a history written in blood! ...How could you forget? Because of war, many people suffer. You've seen it yourself. You were the one who opened my eyes!"

"By cleansing us in the fires of destruction, it gives birth to new civilizations as well! Because of War, we grow stronger. It is the prime force of progress! So, why? Just what do you not understand? Why can you not see that War - is necessary for Mankind, and the one to control it all, must be the one, true GOD!"

"...Kuh, that moron! ...I'm begging you, Byakushiki. Move. We have to stop-"

And then, the one called Orimura Ichika, swathed in noble white, rose again, much to the delighted surprise of the nameless one in black.

"Ho, what spirit! So our noble trial by combat is not over yet, is it now?"

"Byakushiki! Thanks. ...I owe you one."

"Hmph! What a stubborn fellow you are, Mister Golden Boy."

"Shut your mouth, and clench your teeth, because my fist is gonna punch the hell out of you. Maybe that'll finally put your loose screws back where they belong, and when I'm done with you, I'm going to give Wiseman a good punch to his face, too!"

"Yeah, I promise, you won't be bored, so let's settle this: BEAST OF POSSIBILITIES!"

Verily, such an event did occur in another time and place; it was one of infinite possible possibilities recorded by the omnipotent observation system, Takamagahara - The High Plain of Heaven. However, to understand the event, truly, one must return to the beginning, the precious, miraculous moment when the singularity was born.

---

The Wheel of Fate is turning...

---

Mostly refresher material from the foreword, but there is a few new things in there to set the bar up for how high I am gonna go with this. Hopefully, I'll lose interest before it gets to that level of critical mass.

I'll get around to putting this up on ff.net eventually. Now, to get back to the happy fun slice of life comedy of Chapter 2 where the wheel of fate began to move.

I knew I was going overboard with the IS count, but I figured, someone would point out my mistake and I'd just edit it around. Didn't quite know the difference was so drastic.

Don't worry, it happens. I once said the Foundation has about a 100 MPIS because I thot MPIS didn't need IS cores, then Tk wiped the floor with me!

Even after that it took Charlotte to motivate me to go properly research IS fluff (which is really flimsily thought out if you ask me, when compared to say Toaruverse) and think through my plans. So I understand when mental gaffes like this pop up.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Asuras

Oh and btw Miester; I never said that I didn't want them having too much interaction. What I stated was that I never tried myself to create my own interactions in Alice's history section, because I'm not very good at that kind of thing. Never did I say that I wanted her to be a side character.

Ah... My bad. But still, she's in class 1-3, a stoic type with little links to class 1-2, and my focus is on 1-2. I was going to introduce her later then see how it goes, but as far as I can tell, I'm not sure if I can make her take a more prominent role in Shooting Star without modifying her a bit more.

If she was in class 1-2 it would be a lot easier. The Russian can be in class 1-3?

But that just me of course. I do believe everyone has their own plans for their own characters and should act on them without having to wait for me (which is very very slow given that I am so busy.)

Quote:

Originally Posted by John117xCortana

It's just an idea in my head. ^_^ What plans do you have on how the fic goes ?

Frankly, I don't know, I'm winging it as the episodes pass, but a rule of thumb I go by is to avoid changing what appears in the anime as far as possible.

Gerard was a Management Student undergoing OJT in Japan when the White Knight Incident Occurred, amazing him and many others with the IS’ capabilities and potential. And with that simple admiration, he sought to turn the feared image of the technology into something that people would love. And with that goal, his life’s savings and a loan from a bank, he founded the Infinite Sky-Flier magazine- or STRATOMAG as it would be known in later years.

At first it was extremely hard, as the veil behind the IS was very heavy and laden with secrecy- even taking a photograph of the unit/s was a venture in itself- since he had to basically live in Japan. But as luck would have it, he unexpectedly bumped into Dr. Tabane Shinono in a fast-food outlet in a rather messy way, so he had the obligation to give compensation to a lady. Chatter between the two then began to develop and in the conversation, Tabane had a scatterbrain moment with the question:

“What should I name Them?”

Dumbfounded, Gerard asked what that was and got the response as the objects that he was trying to take pictures of. Mistaking that she did not know what they are, Gerard suggested “Infinite Sky-Flier” as the White Knight seemed to fly indefinitely. Tabane then one-upped the naming convention, replacing “Sky-Flier” with “Stratos”, as a reference to the boundary of Earth and Space- something that is basically infinite and without borders. And with that ended that fateful meeting- but not before Tabane managed to get Gerard’s name. Sad to say, he never got her name out and has never seen her since.

A week later, a special pass-card was given to him from an unknown source- giving him what he needed, a special pass into the world of IS- but only at an observer level- and not really into the deep R&D- more of the new models being rolled out, displays and IS demonstrations. And with that, he managed to secure a deal with Manila-based Summit Publishing to publish w/ his own column regarding the now christened “Infinite Stratos” in FHM Philippines. Somehow, some foreign reader caught the column and syndicated it to other magazines, instantly giving Gerard his first exposure- catching the attention of the UN Council- as they were at the time, formulating the Alaska Treaty to limit “the threat IS would become”.

Gerard received an invite to the UN about a month after the column was published. And after conferring with the Council, he was made into “Special Civilian Inspector” and subsequently managed to meet up with the IS development corporations and state IS departments- laying the foundations for his vast network of contacts in and around the IS scene. And on the side, he continued his FHM IS column, attracting more readers- not just men, but also young girls and boys- thus prompting his host company to issue him a challenge- make enough material for an IS Magazine and that they will give him a publishing right- which he did, and the first issue of STRATOMAG was born.

Upon the Signing of the Alaska Treaty, Gerard and the magazine became the IS unofficial media outlet, thus slowly removing the fear people had in it, and slowly replacing it with love and fandom. He was there at important IS-linked events- including the opening of the IS Academy. Soon though, as the numbers of IS increased, questions of “who is the best” began to circulate. And unable to resist the pressure of the internet, Gerard and his motley magazine staff decided on a gamble- the first Global IS Tournament- what would become [Mondo Grosso]. Gerard managed to secure sponsors and 3 months later, he announced to the world with the following words:

“In 3 months to the second i step down from this podium, we will hold the greatest spectacle the world has ever seen since time immemorial- a spectacle so great that not one but two superlatives had to be used to name it. I invite all those who can fly an Infinite Stratos-suit to [Mondo Grosso], the Global IS Tournament! Come one, come all to revel in it!”

And thus the first of the tri-annual tournaments went under way. Gerard, being the one who caused all of it, was now managing something that could be larger than the Olympics. And little did he knew that it would be so. And so came the tournament- with him awarding the prizes personally. And that was when he first met Chifuyu Orimura, who was the champion of the tournament he started. The Gamble paid off, effectively skyrocketing the magazine’s popularity past the roof. Gerard then used this success to expand on the content of the magazine even further, with the first IS model shots featured on it- surprisingly, Chifuyu’s pictures were nowhere to be found on that issue- rumor has it that Gerard has the pictures and never published them.

In the second MG tournament, he again met Chifuyu- who was as finalist at the time- but now this time she was asking for permission to leave- as her kid brother Ichika was kidnapped- but then Gerard was no longer the organizer of the event- only a major sponsor. Gerard managed to convince the panel of the situation and allowed Chifuyu to leave, but then he had other plans- his network informed him of where Ichika was being held and sent a photographer to the scene, managing to snap the epic pictures of Chifuyu beating the kidnappers out and rescuing her kid brother. After that, she thanked Gerard for his help- and thus, a strange partnership was born. In the years to come Gerard has continued to grow his success by managing to have some presence in the IS academy- even to the point that the Magazine had an office w/in the Academy Complex.

Right now he is currently in the IS Academy Office to try and interview Ichika- though Chifuyu is “hindering” him in some way or the other. And sometimes, he is in the Arena’s observation posts, easily snapping up pictures for his next issue- though subject to Chifuyu Control. His goals right now asides from continuing the magazine’s success is to expand and improve its business model, as well as compiling the “IS Pilots Collection”, a database of every representative pilot and their IS units. He still needs to get "666: Ichika Orimura” among other things on that note.

And the last thing we see on his tablet?

777: Houki Shinonono

2/4 complete

Nice fluff, though I do hope those numbers represent pilots and not pilots + machines, as you know the limits on those things.

Brilliant! Looks like I can work this into Shooting Star as a double-edged sword.

I have no intent on thrusting my plans onto someone else's fanfiction. I'm just clarifying. However you want to introduce her or play her out is fine to me, so long as she is in character and at least makes something of a mark for the main characters; even if that means sacrificing her for the plot.
What does your plot entail anyways?

War has changed. In the not too distant future, on a tired battlefield, War has become routine.

Since the dawn of Humanity, when our ancestors first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything - and nothing. Even in the age of deterrence, where the witching hour to apocalypse now can be measured in seconds by the combined nuclear arsenals of the world's super powers, the drum beats of war soldier on. Hundreds and thousands die by the day in silent flash point conflicts across the globe. Their passing ignored by the unconscionably desensitized mass media bankrupt of any pathos, spurned on by muddy self-important ideology of undeserving half-men, and financed by greed of the highest amorality.

To curb the destructive nature of man before it could sustain itself no longer, a brilliant, and very likely mad witch placed her hopes in a heartfelt prayer. Mayhap, she had seen the truth that there is no lasting hope in violence, only temporary relief from hopelessness.

Born from the iron womb of man's innocent dream to free his soul from gravity, she gave the world: Infinite Stratos.

So did the world change, but like the Mother of All Monsters slain, a new wind of madness began to blow from the shadows that tore free from her swollen birthing stomach. In giving Mankind, Infinite Stratos, her brightest light and fondest wish, Doctor Tabane Shinonono, too, gave Him new machines, new weapons that he might better do harm to his fellows. First, came the Muscle Tracers, utilitarian powered exoskeletons, caricatures so horrific as to be blatant parodies born in the shadow of the almighty IS's, whom hailed from the lofty heights of heaven itself. Clumsy and oafish, the MTs would have never seen the battlefield, relegated to the drudgery of civilian enterprises, had it not been for unforeseen advances in battery technology and electroreactive polymer technology that came out from IS Project.

Thus, like the fairy tale days of yore, men did ride out to war clad in armor alongside giants of steel once more.

Following in the footsteps of its clumsy forbearer, second born, came the Personal Trooper, infantry-scale powered armor, a force multiplier that could elevate a single soldier to the strength of an entire weapons platoon. Modular, resilient, adaptable, and punching well above their weight, they should never be taken lightly, under normal circumstances.

The most fortunate son of them, third born, came the Armored Trooper, a bipedel mechanized weapons platform ranging from three to four meters that shares much in common with its utilitarian progenitor. Cheaply made, easy to maintain, modular, maneuverable, lightweight, cost effective, and best of all, expendable: when upscaled to AT-size, the technologies used to manufacture PTs cost a mere fraction and would bother an ambitious warlord no more than the cost it took to buy a sport utility vehicle for his private collection. And believe it or not, these tin cans with an autocannon are the crème of blitzkrieg warfare, where hundreds, if not thousands could be deployed en masse feasibly, thundering across open battlefields to overrun enemy positions within minutes.

Quantity is a quality of its own, too, see?

But as great and vast these new shadows were, they were still pale imitations of the Infinite Stratos. Misshapen beasts that would only buy the foolish and misguided within their armored hulks a second or two longer against the overwhelming superiority of the IS's divine judgment. 476 "Angels" were given to the world, but not all were blessed as equally. Between the have's and have-not's, there exists a huge disparity in affluence and prosperity, and the downtrodden would not suffer such a travesty.

The Have-Nots rebelled against the world order, waging a doomed world war where many died, and many more suffered. So did the age of deterrence transform into the age of control. All in the name of averting catastrophe from weapons of mass destruction.

If that were all, then we would be so lucky, but from the ashes of The National Dismantlement War, another ugly beast was born, The LYNX, "remodeled" humans who debuted too little, too late to change the inevitable outcome. They were soldiers once, and young, turned into transhuman monsters capable of crossing the divide between man and machine. How can this be? Their secret lies in the S-Type Device, developed originally by Doctor Morgan Bernard, a brilliant bio-neural researcher among other things, to help physically disabled persons regain their independence. Suffice to say, the exact know how behind the S-Type Device implementation procedure is a closely guarded state secret, forbidden knowledge spoken of only in the darkest of corners, out of sight and out of mind.

War has changed. And he who controls the battlefield... Controls history.

With the institution of the Alaska Treaty, which forbade the use of Infinite Stratos for warfare, the world powers found themselves at an impasse. Here, within their hands rested the most revolutionary weapon system known to man, since the inception of weapons of mass destruction, and they could no longer put it to good use? What good is a weapon if it cannot fulfill its purpose? Threats needed to be proved with real and permanent consequences, and not with mock battles staged for the posterity of one's country in the Infinite Stratos League's games.

The much lauded IS World Championship? Bah. Another sham. The people, growing fat and unruly in the blanket of comfort, needed to be reminded of fear, and the tiger men would have their way.

Article 1 of the Alaska Treaty, Section 8, Clause 18: The Necessary and Proper Clause gave the world powers the right to "defend" their national interests against all enemies foreign and domestic. The Infinite Stratos cannot deployed in an "act of war", but for the purposes of defense and peacekeeping? Oh yes, they can and will enforce the peace, often with extreme prejudice.

That is why the armed crisis resolution organization, "Collared", exists: a stable of a hundred odd "anonymously" registered Infinite Stratos from various sources, state run and private, supported by an army's worth of disparate MT, PT, and AT fully mechanized companies, owned by various individuals and start-up initiatives. Collared even has access to unmanned combat vehicles, state-of-the-art air support, and extravehicular assets up in Earth's orbit. No one wants to admit that they are horrifically well-paid contractors the Gestapo of the United Nations, tasked with rehabilitating the Special Administrative Zones drawn up arbitrarily amongst the bloated, carrion infested carcasses of the losers from the National Dismantlement War.

But in creating Collared, the world powers did not foresee a series of unfortunate consequences.

War has changed. It's an endless series of proxy battles fought by mercenaries and machines. You ask of nations, ideologies, or ethnicity? And I reply, "What of it?" ...None of it matters anymore, for verily, War and its consumption of life has become a well-oiled machine, in the name of profit.

Even as the world's first orbital elevator, ATLAS, a joint multi-national project spearheaded the USA, the EU, China, and the Russian Federation, begins to break the envelope of the exosphere, the powers that be recognized the need to tighten their stranglehold over Earth. The reason being, in recent years, there had been a disturbing trend of unregistered Infinite Stratos appearing in combat actions outside the known 476 Angels. How it was possible for them to exist, none of the global power houses would admit to the cause.

It was bad enough that on occasion, Infinite Stratos and registered mechanized units from Collared would go - rogue, but at least, they were quantifiable threats. These "Missing Numbers", on the other hand, were a growing epidemic that could not be simply swept underneath the carpet. It would be pure folly, considering a single IS could and has stopped a war, on a previous occasion for the edification of all concerned, by shooting down two-thousand four-hundred thirty-seven missiles, two-hundred and seven fighter aircraft, disabling or immobilizing five aircraft carrier groups, and - oh - vaporizing eight spy satellites that were tracking its movement.

Traditional static defenses and sprawling military outposts were obsolete, little more than fat, juicy targets for the "do-everything-and-stop-at-nothing" Infinite Stratos. Defense analysts joked the only thing that could stand in their way, conventional speaking, was to throw mountains at them. Let it not be known that the world powers were not without a sense of humor, because they did exactly just that by commissioning:

Arms Forts, megaweapons on a massive scale that were many times larger and much more powerful than any single Infinite Stratos.

Deployed in matters where IS are neither available nor sufficient, the existence of these fantastical mobile battle fortresses, bristling with weapon batteries, heavy armor, experimental arms and technologies, and veteran troops, replaced the reliance of IS in military operations, effectively. Arms Forts, also, reinstalled a sense of equilibrium at long last into the state of checks and balances that maintains the world's order. No longer must the world powers have fear from a rabble of rogues and misfits toppling their kingdoms, as they began their conquests into outer space and beyond.

They had finally done it. The League of Ruling Nations had achieved: Control.

War has changed. When the battlefield is under total control... ...War becomes routine.

In a perfect world without meaning, what are we fighting for? Is there even - an answer?

---

The silvery rapport of a broken blade reverberates through the vast Chthonic cathedral, lit by green sulfurous light, in the forgotten center of the world. There, two armored silhouettes existed, one bent to the knees, clutching its side as if wounded, and the other stood, poised to deliver the final blow through one outstretched hand in an instant.

"...D, dammit, is this the end?" the former cried in vain. "...Kuh! Come on. Come on! Move, Byakushiki. We can't lose here, not like this!"

"Heh ha ha, you always were a sore loser, my friend," the latter chuckled brightly. "...Not that I found it dislikeable. In fact, I found that quality about you to be quite adorable."

"Che, and behind that nice guy routine, I know you enjoyed crowing victory more than anyone else, so don't be trying to get cute with me!"

"Hotly contested battles demand such fanfare, just like now. Pu ku ku ku, can you hear it, Orimura-dono? The voices? The crowd! It is --- glorious. This feeling!"

"You moron, this place is a tomb. There's nothing out there. Stop deluding yourself already-"

"Wrong. Again. So. Very. WRONG. The deluded one is you, Orimura Ichika. Even now, you would blaspheme by denying the existence of God? He is here, my friend. Right here. Standing in this cathedral, watching us just beyond those golden gates that will open the way to the Realm of the Gods!"

"Wiseman's no god! He's just using you."

"Ah, but a pawn is you, Orimura Ichika-kun, and a wonderful knight you have been, fulfilling your role with every ounce of strength in your body. Heh ha ha ha, I could not have asked for a better foil, and more loyal a comrade-in-arms. Ichika. I was proud to call you my friend."

"Then, stop this! Don't go-"

"I must go. Apotheosis. My ascension is at hand! Many hardships have I suffered and overcome, but defeating you --- was my magnum opus! There can be no lingering doubt, no hint of treacherous dissent left. I am worthy. The most magnanimous. The most courageous. The most wise. The fabled overman destined to deliver us from darkness, and lead our people into a new glorious age!"

"Superman, my ass, you idiot. Super idiot is more like it! Those monsters from the ABYSS-"

"Must I educate you, again? Fool. War is the creator of history!"

"We don't need a history written in blood! ...How could you forget? Because of war, many people suffer. You've seen it yourself. You were the one who opened my eyes!"

"By cleansing us in the fires of destruction, it gives birth to new civilizations as well! Because of War, we grow stronger. It is the prime force of progress! So, why? Just what do you not understand? Why can you not see that War - is necessary for Mankind, and the one to control it all, must be the one, true GOD!"

"...Kuh, that moron! ...I'm begging you, Byakushiki. Move. We have to stop-"

And then, the one called Orimura Ichika, swathed in noble white, rose again, much to the delighted surprise of the nameless one in black.

"Ho, what spirit! So our noble trial by combat is not over yet, is it now?"

"Byakushiki! Thanks. ...I owe you one."

"Hmph! What a stubborn fellow you are, Mister Golden Boy."

"Shut your mouth, and clench your teeth, because my fist is gonna punch the hell out of you. Maybe that'll finally put your loose screws back where they belong, and when I'm done with you, I'm going to give Wiseman a good punch to his face, too!"

"Yeah, I promise, you won't be bored, so let's settle this: BEAST OF POSSIBILITIES!"

Verily, such an event did occur in another time and place; it was one of infinite possible possibilities recorded by the omnipotent observation system, Takamagahara - The High Plain of Heaven. However, to understand the event, truly, one must return to the beginning, the precious, miraculous moment when the singularity was born.

---

The Wheel of Fate is turning...

---

Mostly refresher material from the foreword, but there is a few new things in there to set the bar up for how high I am gonna go with this. Hopefully, I'll lose interest before it gets to that level of critical mass.

I'll get around to putting this up on ff.net eventually. Now, to get back to the happy fun slice of life comedy of Chapter 2 where the wheel of fate began to move.

I don't know why... But I just had the idea Nightmare and Siegfried were fighting in the lost Cathedral with this epic tune as BGM as always.... ahhhh. Soul Calibur 3.
Keep us briefed.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Asuras

What exactly is the plot for your FF, Terminator? I know it revolves around the three main OC's you created and the Omega Division, but... What more? Or do we have to wait?

Well, here's a small refresher:

As you said, it will focus more on the three characters I created. It happens in parallel with Shooting Star and the Cannonverse's story, but it will have some variations (not to a too big extent).

We'll be following Alex as he enters ISA to do his job. He's originally sent in because Phantom Task is after Orimura Ichika, and that's not good, because the info he's giving via Byakushiki is out standing, and they don't want to lose him.

He'll meet most of the OC Cast here, and some of them will even become quite important.

Then... ahem, it will get more srs... With more evil guys appearing. :P

Ditching NSISA developing, as it has become well evident that such a society in this universe is pointless. For one, it is also evident that IS seem quite capable of being in space without need for special equipment, and their seemingly anti-gravitational properties.
Since IS pilots are protected from energy and shrapnel with their shields, it seems likely that it can retain oxygen and a pressurized environment as well. No need for a special breathing mechanism that I made present in the SIS; it's already there!

So it goes down. Anyways... Off to brainstorm a more important, less useless organization.

Despite the facade of peace amongst the world, it is a pure thing of obvious fact that there are those who either dislike peace, or simply find a reason to disrupt it. No man has seen the end of war, and the quote certainly isn't ending today, no matter how peaceful the outside shell may seem.

Its truth presents itself underground in these years. In places some dare not to look at. Events that the faint-hearted leave be, for their own comfort. They don't want to get roughed up; too many have felt little today. They are unaccustomed to the brutal. We have become sensitized again; our only desensitization being an pen eye to the truth.

The commoner is a tool, no matter what the higher-ups say or do. Whatever shit they feed them, and whatever shit they eat is all part of the same plan; to feed non-shit to those who dish it out. The people of today have become to docile; to domesticated. Since the end of the wars years past, a trend in surface peace has risen. People seem happy, and they think it will be this way for however long they live to see the light of the sun.

I can tell you now, that such a day where the world is 100% safe will never come about. I can tell you today is such a day, because I am standing, alive, right here. Until the time my hands lose color and the blood in my veins runs cold, the world should be wary. Yet they are not? Soon enough, this will change. I guarantee it.

The thoughts of Armageddon have stopped for the average man. As if, suddenly, a serene time has rid humanity of the possibility. I want them to know it's still here. With such powerful weapons in the hands of the select few, such a chance of ultimate destruction has become even more probable. But they don't see it! They think that, these games have made these things innocent. As if, you cold stick a homicidal maniac in a football game and call him safe. Bah! It is all ignorance. Soon enough someone will fire the first shot. Someone, somewhere. The tension kills me; I want it done now. Bring the inevitable future here, and be rid of an era of war yet again. Come back to this peace and get the people to realize, we will never change. Hopefully that will set something straight.

But then again, no matter how intelligent we get, we're still all dumb. What they teach you in school doesn't boost your intelligence, it boosts your knowledge. We need to have something so dramatically painful occur. Something that will wrack the hearts of every living soul on the planet to such a degree, that someone, somewhere must feel the need for change.

That's our job. To bring the future to today. Show the populace what our world is like. That these fat cats in business suits don't understand that sooner or later, their treatise will fail, or their position usurped. A king cannot last, and an elected official is never universally liked. We may ask then, "What is the answer?"
To that, I respond,
"To go back to our normal days. When might truly made right, and when a born son was judged on his success with his bare hands, not the filthy money he chokes on today. Today, we have the power to destroy the regime. To put power into the hands of the people who can truly deserve it. Destroy society and revive it anew. It was hard to get a hold of what we needed, trying to find the right guy to speak to.
Corruption is easy to find; support is hard to come by. But even a president can turn towards what the people call insane. Even the most strong-willed peoples can change their minds. We just needed to find the most easily swayed one. Billions of funds and two IS to boot. We surely made it.

I cannot stress enough the importance of our cause to the future of humanity. If we give up now, the peoples will be too calmed and satisfied to rise up with efficiency when their loving leaders turn the tables. They will be blind to all the things thy have slowly set up to keep the so called peace in order. Things will be so blatantly there, yet everyone will disregard it as something less sinister. We must prevent it from even happening. To stop the regime before it can begin to take true hold. These silly games are diverting the populace's attention while the inside man formulates his plan. It has happened all the time. I've been a part of it.

Save the bloodshed that will arise when the dumbfounded people discover they'd been duped.

-----------------------------------------------------

The long, low hum of machinery permeated the coarse air inside. A dark glow was cast upon the thick smoke and dust floating about with a solemn pace, the lights above barely keeping a flow. It was as if a large bottle was filled with burnt rubber and bottled up before being placed under a dim lamp. The warehouse, despite the clanging and engine murmurs around, gave an air of peace and serenity, like an industrial ambiance that even a baby could sleep to. It was here that an exchange of secrecy took place. Grimy and rusty as it seemed, the old warehouse was trading more than a simple gun or drugs; it was trading a piece of the future.

A pile of half-shut crates was visited by a dark, burly figure, though it was evident even amongst the smoke cloud that much of the thickness was attributed to the persons clothing. It seemed smooth, but the bending patterns showed it to be some sort of bullet proof vest. A clinking of metal sounded from the figures belt, as several packs and holsters shifted about the heavy stomping it produced.

The armored person took a seat with a short groan of relief, exhausted by something. The voice was masculine, and had a sound like his throat was wet with mucus. Immediately, a cigarette was raised and lit; the man was a pro, seemingly. The small ember shone through the haze, barely lighting his own clothing. A drag and a sigh, he continued the routine regularly, staring into the distance longingly. He mumbled a few words, tapping his foot -he was singing out a tune of some sort- and managed to let out a small smirk in his song. The droning of cranes and trucks persisted.

A soft patter of leather boots approached the hunched man, revealing to him a tall figure, wearing the same material as he, but this newcomer wore a dark mask, protecting his or her visage completely. It was eerie, but the man showed no astonishment or wonder. He looked up at it, as if waiting for some event to unfold for him, like watching a circus before the acts began.

"We were under budget this time. We didn't need to pay the workers as much as we did in the Los Angeles factory department," the masked figure stated, standing perfectly steady before the man. After a long smoke, he dropped the stick and stomped it out just as it hit the floor. He took a hand and brushed his whitened hair back with a huff and an exhalation of smoke.

"That's good, but, why do I need to know?" he responded, a tone of annoyance in his voice. The other figure looked taken aback, his body retreating if but slightly. There was a small quake in his thin frame, as if a cold had risen through him. The statement must've hit him hard in some way.

"You are the leader, no? I flt it was in your best interest-"
"My best interest? I pay you guys the shit that I get handed to figure this stuff out on your own. I ain't no accountant or secretary!" the man rose, puffing out his chest. He looked quite aggravated, as he stood so quickly with his glaring face. The masked man stepped back, raising his hands in some pointless form of defense.

"I-I only," he quivered. The angered man calmed in surprising speediness. He seemed again calm, as if nothing ever happened. The shaking man still stood back, aghast at the commotion.

"Just let me do what I want; I'll ask you people what I need of you," the white-haired man stated, turning away and walking off. The masked man did a double-take to both sides, checking to see if his screw-up was noticed by anyone. Only the occasional worker caught his eye, but they seemed to be oblivious to the event. The white haired male disappeared into the haze, no longer visible.

----------

"I want to know who packed the effing soda with the bungie chords," an irritated voice groaned in the room. The sound came from a man leaning in his chair, feet raised and sitting upon a desk flooded with paperwork. The brightly lit room was an office of some sort. A single but annoyingly bright lamp hung from the ceiling, casting a yellow glow to the square box of a room. A single window looked out into the haze of the factory floor, small peoples walking about and large monster cranes moving supplies about.

No one seemed to answer, but the silent responses didn't seem to faze the laid-back man. He looked at the ceiling and dozed off, his chair falling back even further. A small crate beside him was haphazardly opened, as if a struggle took place to pry its contents open. Filled with Styrofoam and plastic, it showed to contain various brands of soda and a tube of color assorted bungie chords. The others merely fiddled with various objects. A staple remover was toyed with by a white-haired girl, as if it were some kind of small creature. Another read a stack of stapled papers, quite obviously not entertained by its contents. He tossed it aside.

The boring silence was alleviated by a fierce kick to the door. The older white-haired man stood in the doorway of the swinging door, peering into the room. His eyes were adjusting to the new light, quite the difference from outside on the floor. The others took no notice save for the reading individual.

"You punks decide yet?" the man in the door asked quickly. Silence pervaded again for several seconds. The mans eyebrow raised, evidently expecting an answer, unlike the lazy man leaning in the chair. He was awoken when a sharp kick to one of the two legs flipped the from under the boys behind. He fell with a loud thud, and scrambled up to his feet. He said nothing, but expressed an irritation on his face.

This sets up a little showdown between Karon and whoever this is. She wants to change things from the top, and will have no patience with these self-conceited people. After all, when you grow up in this region eternally wrapped in a shadow war and checkpoint bombings, terrorists of any shade are just terrorists. Just like Shooting Star often finds themselves defending an imperfect system, Karon knows there are no heroes, no villains, no gods in this world.

Description : When the global warming swept forth Southeast Asia and flooded the low lying areas, terrorists in Malaysia attempted to overtake Kuala Lumpur in a massed armed uprising, where civilians are coerced and brainwashed into their ranks. The Malaysian commando units were crushed by the superior numbers of terrorists and created a state of instability.

Since the caliphate feared that women will overtake their roles in society when the first ISes appeared, they began to seek anti-IS technologies. Though proper insertions into the intelligence agencies of the neighbouring countries yielded a few results such as electric grenades, a joint coalition by resistance spies within the Caliphate controlled government and neighbouring countries in SEA was able to suppress the intelligence leaks.

Frustrated at their failures, the Caliphate decided to launch an attack on Singapore, now renamed the Metropolis, in order to hold the trade in Asia hostage as it is a vital shipping lane and financial hub. The attack was launched on 3-years-ago, with exoskeletons formerly used by Malaysian Rangers put into mass production.

Despite holding the front against a massed assault, the battle was soon to become a stalemate with heavy losses on both sides, as the Metropolitian soldiers are better equipped with superior exoskeletons despite being outnumbered. Thus the Caliphate took control of Malaysia's only aircraft carrier and turned it into a biological weapons platform, with plans to smother the Metropolis with corrosive mustard gas that wear down CBRE measures. Despite having a first generation IS squadron of 3 registered cores and 12 mass-produced IS-es, the brass chose not to risk the lives of the women and sent two squadrons of their F-40 fighters, which were all shot down as they passed through a heavily guarded SAM net in Johore. Finally, Major Thomas Hirashima , a Japanese-Chinese dive officer of the MDF, took a commando team and infiltrated Metro Airforce Command, held the Chief of Airforce hostage and forced him to give green light for the IS squadron to launch.

The squadron, led by First Lieutenant Kareen Lee, easily dodged the AI-controlled SAM net and went on to severely damage the aircraft carrier. The mustard stockpile onboard exploded and caused severe environmental damage and loss of lives to settlements around that area that will take months to clean up while exacting death toll on nearby settlements. A week later, a joint invasion force consisting of Thai, Malaysian Resistance and Metro troops assaulted the capital, with the Crown Prince himself leading the charge against the terrorist leaders at the palace.

Major Hirashima and his commandos were arrested for the act, but was pardoned by the President, on condition that all of them resign from their posts in the military. The conscript armoury in-charge who armed them was charged with negligence, court-martialled and sentenced to a year in detention barracks.

Although the war came to an end in 1 year, the Caliphate still managed to reform itself with hidden bases on outlying islands and sleeper cells throughout SEA. Tensions between the SEA countries are quelled, but the terrorist group used the mustard gas incident, also known as the West Strait Disaster to forment unrest between nations. The fragile peace seems to have held for now, but for how long?

__________________

When three puppygirls named after pastries are on top of each other, it is called Eclair a'la menthe et Biscotti aux fraises avec beaucoup de Ricotta sur le dessus.
Most of all, you have to be disciplined and you have to save, even if you hate our current financial system. Because if you don't save, then you're guaranteed to end up with nothing.

You could say while the US military IS program was developed with tons of money and research, the Foundation Gladiator IS program was baptised with fire. I mean, after battling Asuras' Gonorrhea terrorists, Saintess' Sons of Jemiah Islamiah () and then Phantom Task, you've got a lot of solid data.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Asuras

I have no intent on thrusting my plans onto someone else's fanfiction. I'm just clarifying. However you want to introduce her or play her out is fine to me, so long as she is in character and at least makes something of a mark for the main characters; even if that means sacrificing her for the plot.
What does your plot entail anyways?

well I've not a clue where I'm going. Right now, I'm more on building up the cast, shadowing the existence of Shooting Star and their current enemy Phantom Task, then slowly adding in other forces as they emerge.

But yes the focus in the short term is the academy. More high-school hijinx first, when I get to it I'll go get me some plot, otherwise, I'm having some fun first.

No I don't believe so. Derailing canon usually means doing things that either directly contradict an explicit scene on the anime, or doing something that has such severe repercussions that canon scenes will be affected. Ed battling Yamada will have little effect I believe.

For example, I have a scene which takes place after Houki punches several holes in her door when Ichika first shows up at her room. Karon (controlled by Imouto) does the "Can I sleep with you?" little sister routine to place herself within range of Ichika with a proper IS sensor suite already set up. That takes place in between scenes, and steps have been taken to make sure that the repercussions don't spill over into the next day. Houki explains that the little girl had been doing that all through orientation week, so she is more annoyed that Karon is sticking to Ichika rather than her like she used to, rather than smell something afish.

Do remember that Yamada easily pawned Cecilia and Rin. She's actually very skilled, and seeing that Edward is using default mode, it would be a curbstomp battle. IS start kicking butt only when they reach 1st form (even that, Cecilia and Rin, who were piloting 3rd Gen units, LOST to Yamada Sensei in her Rafael Revive (2nd Gen), which indicates that she's a damn good pilot)

Nightfury will most probably be of a match for a Trainer IS and perhaps some of the weaker OCs, but it'll need first form to actually be a match for the higher powered stuff (the Canonverse's protagonist Units, etc...).

I also don't think that Edward has a lot of training and natural inept skills. He needs a "power up" phase, like most civilians that got thrown in the IS seat.
Pilots that start and kick-arse right from the beginning are your generic high powered military experts or supersoildiers. To balance this, they're usually relegated to piloting crap units.

Depends on the plot skills given to Edward. He's only human, (with prosthetic limbs that is), so he needs some power up time. That's also logical for fan-fics because making him at the very beginning an all round power house without limiting his powers seems quite ridiculous.

He already has a good IS, so being able to adapt fast and get good reflexes isn't very interesting. Most skilled pilots with good mechs either end up appearing up later in stories (Late level joiners...) or are relegated to the role of baddies.

You could say while the US military IS program was developed with tons of money and research, the Foundation Gladiator IS program was baptised with fire. I mean, after battling Asuras' Gonorrhea terrorists, Saintess' Sons of Jemiah Islamiah () and then Phantom Task, you've got a lot of solid data.

well I've not a clue where I'm going. Right now, I'm more on building up the cast, shadowing the existence of Shooting Star and their current enemy Phantom Task, then slowly adding in other forces as they emerge.

But yes the focus in the short term is the academy. More high-school hijinx first, when I get to it I'll go get me some plot, otherwise, I'm having some fun first.

Don't mind if I change Alice's classes then? Or take the Russian?

I'm not even sure what class you put her in to begin with! Whatever suits your fancy.
Wait, what do you mean by 'take'? I have copyrights you know!

Hmmm.. Wilco!
Wow, Medium Threats are diminishing seriously. XD
Extreme High is reserved to the likes of Kira Yamato. Which basically are end-bosses are last minute power ups the hero gets to beat the baddy (because he sucks so much he needs a better IS, or because the baddy is made of so much win that is)

Uchidame is a small threat unit, but take note that I'm not gauging pilots skills here. Some people would drop down in medium threat, others would get upped, etc...